When Roses Bleed
by Rahls-Rose
Summary: Set pre-movie. A beautiful young girl is kidnapped by Lord Blackwood. Forced to become his slave, she sees no hope for the future. That all changes when a certain detective rescues her. Holmes vows to protect the girl, but what will that mean for him?
1. the girl

The girl was shivering.

She was tied to a stone table, in nothing but a damp chemise. This was her life. Doing anything and everything she was asked to, without hesitation. This was because she knew well what would happen to her if she didn't obey her orders…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lord Blackwood was furious. "What gives you the right to interrupt my personal time with issues of WORK?" he spat at the man in the black cloak, who was cowering in fear.

"P-p-please my Lord…if you'll only listen…"

"Oh I'll listen all right…to the sound of your bones crunching under my boot! Is THAT what you want!?"

The man cringed at the thought. At that moment, another man in a full black cloak stepped in.

"My Lord, Dunstan here was only trying to bring you're attention to a few issues with the plan."

Blackwood turned to face the man, who was obviously braver than Dunstan. His eyes narrowed.

"Later. As I said, I'm _busy_. He then turned to leave.

"It would appear as if your "toy" has become a distraction from more important work, Blackwood."

The man regretted the statement as soon as it fell from his lips. With a flash of steel and a scream of pain, the man no longer lived, his body crumpled on the floor.

Blackwood bent over, pulled his knife from the man's body, and began cleaning the blade.

"Let that be a warning to ALL of you. ANYONE who dares to get in my way will pay the same price".

And with that he stormed out of the room.


	2. the detective

Sherlock Holmes was in his room, staring out the window. A pigeon flew over and landed on the railing of his balcony. It cooed at him. Holmes smiled, but didn't let the bird distract him from his thoughts. He was contemplating about his deep, innermost thoughts, which was something he did when there was nothing else to do.

Just, then Dr. Watson came up behind him.

"Holmes…"

Utterly startled, Sherlock whirled around, his hand raised. When he saw it was only Watson, he put his hand down

"Great Scott Watson! Are you TRYING to put me in an early grave?"

"Not at all." Said Watson clearing his throat. "I was merely trying to tell you that there are some new cases you are being asked to take."

Holmes threw his arms up in the air, very dramatically.

"Oh! Of course! There are ALWAYS people who need my help! What about what _I_ need? Hm?" with that, the exasperated detective plopped him self down in a chair.

Watson rolled his eyes. "Holmes, if you are QUITE though with the theatrics, I'd like to proceed."

Holmes rested his head in one of his hands and waved Watson on with the other.

"Well, Mrs. Priestly down the street says her prized brooch is missing…"

"Did she try looking in her closet for it?"

Watson looked at his notes. "Ah, no…no I think not"

Holmes spoke again. "Tell her to look for it in there, She probably left it on the dress she was in the last time she wore it. That woman is _so _forgetful. Next.

"Well, there's a man who claims to have been robbed by…" Holmes suddenly sat up straight.

"Robberies? Really, Watson? Where's the kidnappings, the conspiracies to blow up Big Ben or something like that. Those are the cases I will take to solving. Leave the petty robberies to the police."

Watson sighed. "Holmes, you need a case. You do nothing but mope around all day, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it."

The detective looked at his assistant. "I'm not moping…I'm _thinking_."

"About?"

Holmes turned to gaze out the window. "I'm thinking about how the hell I'm going to catch Blackwood."

Watson strode over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You think about that A LOT, don't you?"

"I just don't understand why we can't find him. He left no trail. It's as if he vanished into thin air, but his crimes still continue…"

"It could be his followers."

Holmes shook his head. "There's no way. They might carry out the actions, but they could never know what's next without him telling them what to do."

"Well, maybe he left a plan, or something of that nature…"

"No. I KNOW he's out there. I just don't know where…"

Watson sighed. "Well, anyway, I have to go talk to Mrs. Hudson. We need tea and cheese. Oh, and I think were also out of apples."

"Forget it." Holmes said, getting up.

"What?" "Forget about it. I'll go to the market. Save her that trip."

Watson cocked an eyebrow. "Holmes, do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Absolutely. I need the fresh air"

"Well, I can't argue with that." Watson replied, looking his friend up and down. "Just be careful, all right?"

Holmes smiled. "Always am."

Watson rolled his eyes again, but Holmes pretended not to notice as his turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket, and strolled out the door.


	3. just a little note

Just a note…

Well, hello everyone! I hope you all are enjoying the story so far. I was inspired to write it after seeing the movie just a couple of days ago. I have always loved the Sherlock Holmes stories, but the movie gave me something new to love. Sorry to all you who are Irene Alder fans, she won't be in this story much, if at all. I haven't decided yet. Please also note when you are reading it that it is set PRE movie, aka, before the catch Blackwood (which happens in the first scene of the movie). Just wanted to clear that up. Also, I wanted to thank the three reviewers that I've had so far . You guys are great! You guys really motivated me to write chapter two so quickly. So, to all you out there, if you this story and you like it, leave a comment! Reviews really spur me on the write more for you guys, and faster! ^^ Just wanted to throw that out there. So… read, reabiew, and enjoy!

PS: I DO NOT own the movie of Sherlock Holmes, or any of the characters, no matter how much I wish I did… :\


	4. The Plan

Lord Blackwood was smiling, which was something he didn't do very often. He got up, dressed, and glanced at the girl lying before him. She was not moving, only staring up at the ceiling through tearful eyes.

Lord Blackwood fastened the remaining buttons of his vest.

"Get up."

He said to the girl. She didn't move. His eyes flashed dangerously. They fixed upon her.

"Did you not hear me?" he said, in a voice full of poison, "I believe I said GET UP!"

And with that he stuck the girl, hard, across her face. At once she began to sob, but Blackwood just grabbed her hair, and yanked her face up to his level.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, my dear. Do as I say, or suffer the consequences."

Two eyes full of fear looked straight into his. A few moments later, the girl stood up, as hard as it was for her to do. Blackwood let go of her hair.

"I'm going away for a bit, but I'll return soon..."

Blackwood then stepped closer to the poor creature, so that they were face to face.

"Don't even_ think_ about trying anything foolish. For I think you know quite well what will happen to you if do…"

the girl swallowed hard, but then nodded slowly.

"Good. Try not to miss me _too_ much, my dear."

Laughing, Lord Blackwood left the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

At once the girl fell down and wept. She missed her family so much. It was hard to imagine what her life was like before now, since pain and sorrow were all she now knew.

She heard Lord Blackwood's words ringing in her ears, but she knew she had to try and escape. For days she had been planning it, but each time she was discouraged by the memories of the terrible things she endured as punishment that last time she tried to flee. But the girl knew she had to try.

With some difficulty, she picked herself up from the floor and found her way over to the window. Spitting on her hands, she then rubbed them against the hinges of it. Then saying, she pressed against the glass of the window. It opened without a sound.

She said another quick prayer of thanks, and went hastily over to the fireplace and retrieved what she had been hiding there. She had been snitching scraps of cloth for sometime now. Unraveling the rope she'd made with the scraps, she tied one end to the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she looked outside for activity. Seeing none she quickly tossed the other end of the makeshift rope out the window. It nearly touched the ground of the alleyway below.

She gave the rope a sharp tug to test it, and then slowly climbed out the window, and started climbing down the rope to the ground. She was about a quarter of the way from the bottom when she stopped. The rope was getting looser near the top.

She tried to climb faster but it was too late, she crashed to the ground as she heard the window above her break. She looked up and saw the rope attached to the doorknob, as well as several shards of glass come sailing toward her, she tried to dodge them, but a shard of glass came down, slicing into her shoulder.

She screamed in pain, but immediately clasped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she head done. Forcing herself up, she winced in pain one more as she removed the piece of glass from her shoulder. Throwing it to the ground, she took only a moment to catch her breath, and then she ran like hell.


	5. The Meeting

Once Holmes was outside, he took in a deep breath of the London air. He didn't care that it smelled of smog and fish, it was heavenly to him.

As he walked toward the market he looked at the things going on around him. Two boys played a game of tag in the courtyard of a law firm building. A woman laden with parcels called to a man behind her, who had even more parcels, to hurry up. People smoked outside the local pub.

Holmes smiled; he enjoyed seeing people going about their daily lives. Seeing them made him less troubled, and less likely to think about the troubles at hand. But before he knew it, he was thinking once again about Lord Blackwood. The man was so elusive, how was he _ever_ going to catch him…

* * *

Lord Blackwood has just been relaxing downstairs with his men, drinking and joking around, when they heard a loud thud, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

"What the _hell_ was that?" he asked.

"I think it came from upstairs, sir." One of his companions said.

Blackwood didn't need to think twice. His eyes narrowed.

"Martin! Gregory! Upstairs with me. NOW!"

The two men jumped up and ran after Blackwood. Once they were upstairs, Blackwood unlocked the door where the girl had been and kicked it open. He saw empty room, the broken window. Blackwood roared as he kicked a chair.

"Martin! Find her! She couldn't have gone far! Go _now_!" Martin scrambled out the door and down the hall, grabbing his knife as he went.

"And don't you come back without her!" Blackwood yelled after him, his voice full of rage.

Blackwood swore as he banged his fist against the wall.

"Mark my words, I'm going to teach that damn slut a lesson she'll never forget. No one disobeys me and gets away with it!"

* * *

The market was flooded with people, and the air filled with all the smells and sounds a market should have.

There was the smell of fresh baked bread, vegetables, fruit, herbs and spices, fresh wildflowers, poultry, fish, and all sorts of pies and tarts.

The was the sounds of people reading things they needed off their lists, people arguing over prices, vendors calling for their workers to put out more merchandise, mothers telling their children to behave.

But Holmes was too pre-occupied to notice any of it. He was too deep in thought. He was just rounding a corner when WHAM! He collided head on with someone.

"Blimey!" Holmes exclaimed. "Watch where you're…"

Then he stopped. For the first time, he got a good look at the person who had run into him. Before him was a girl. But she was not like any other girl he had ever seen.

Her hair was matted and stringy, her skin was bruised and scraped, and there were cuts everywhere. Her dress was filthy, and tattered so much it hardly looked like a dress. But was Holmes noticed most were her eyes. They were so full of fear, so full of sorrow and pain. He had never seen eyes like that.

Holmes could immediately tell that she had been beaten, her newest wound being a bruise across her left cheek. From the looks of it, she had received it under and hour ago.

Holmes reached out to touch the girl on the shoulder, but she recoiled, as if his hand were a snake. "It's alright. I won't hurt you." He took a step toward her.

"Who did this to you?" the girl just looked at him with those tearful eyes. "Are you running from someone?"

Still no answer, until finally, the girl spoke, in a voice that was shaky and damaged.

"Him. I'm running from him. And he's probably got some one coming after me by now…Please…" she said taking a step toward Homes, "Please don't let him take me! I can't…I can't go back there…knowing what he'll do to me…"

The girl began to cry. Holmes put his hand on her arm.

"shh, shh. It's alright. I want to help you. Who is this that you speak of? Who is it you don't want to find you?"

the girl looked at him, and swallowed hard.

"Blackwood."

Holmes eyes widened. "Blackwood!? Blackwood's done this to you?" the girl nodded.

"He keeps me locked up, and he… he hurts me…"

"Does he know you escaped?"

"He probably does by now. And he's probably sent someone after me…"

"Who would he send? Could you tell me what he looks like?"

"He probably sent Martin. He's the fastest. He's tall, with long blond hair, and a scar across his forehead."

"Good. Now come with me. I'll take you where you'll be safe…" Holmes extended his hand to the girl.

"How do I know I can trust you? Who are you anyway?" Holmes smiled.

"The name's Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

The girl looked at him, eyes wide. "I've heard about you! You solve mysteries others can't, and Blackwood always complains about how much he hates you." Holmes laughed.

"I'm sure he does. And I can assure you that I'm not like him. I mean you no harm."

The girl hesitated a few moments, but then took the detective's hand.

"Come on." Holmes said, and then began leading the girl down the street.

* * *

About an hour later, the girl was at 221B Baker Street, lying in Holmes' own bed, asleep.

Her wounds head been cleaned, bandaged, and she had been given some antibiotics.

Holmes was looking at her through a crack in the door, while Watson paced up and down the corridor.

"Holmes, I cannot_ believe_ you. I send you to the market for a pound of cheese, a box a tea, and six apples and you come back with a girl. A_ girl_. Oh, but not just _any_ girl! A girl who just so happens to be a former prisoner of your arch enemy, who will probably kill you if he finds out she's here. Did you at LEAST get the apples?"

Holmes simply kept looking through the crack in the door. "Holmes! Are you even listening to me?"

Holmes simple put a finger to his lips.

"Shh."

Watson rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he looked though the crack of the door at the girl as well. Holmes sighed.

"Oh, Watson." He looked to his companion. "Can we keep her?"

"NO we can't keep her Holmes! She's a girl, not a dog!"

"Well, I am not going to let Blackwood take advantage of her anymore. I promised her she'd be safe!"

"By Jove, Holmes, have you gone _barmy_? She can't stay here! It will only cause trouble! How in the world did you even get yourself into this?"

Holmes turned to face his friend.

"My dear Watson. Let me tell you what happened…"

* * *

A/N: Aren't I just the worst to leave you hanging like that? Te-he-he…read and review please, and I promise to put a new chapter up soon!

Sincerely-

Rahls_Rose 3


	6. The Promise

"You see Watson, I was just walking through the market, thinking of how I was going to catch Blackwood, when I rounded a corner and ran right into her.

Once I got a good look at her, I knew she was being abused. When I reached out to touch her, she backed away, so I knew that the person who had abused her was a man. I inquired who it was that had treated her thus, and I was shocked to discover that it was Blackwood.

She also told me that he'd probably sent a man named Martin after her, and she described him the best she could. After that, I brought her back here and got in touch with Lestrade, who set a trap.

As I instructed, he sent one of his officers out, in plain clothing, to look for this man Martin. Sure enough, he soon came the same way she had, and when he came by, the undercover officer 'accidentally' ran into him.

Thereupon, he inquired why the man was running, and when Martin told him he was chasing after a girl with ragged hair and a tattered black dress, the officer told him that he had seen her run into a nearby alleyway, just a matter of minutes ago.

Martin immediately ran off in search of her, only to be captured by Lestrade and his men, who were waiting in the alley for him."

Watson looked intently at Holmes. "Has he talked yet?"

The detective shook his head. "No, not yet. But I know Lestrade; He'll have him talking before the days out."

Watson looked back at the girl. "Did she tall you anything else? Maybe she knows where Blackwood's hiding…"

"I plan on asking her when she wakes, if she's up to it. She's been through a lot, the poor thing…"

Holmes looked upon the girl again. It wasn't until she had been cleaned up that he'd noticed how truly beautiful she was.

Her hair, now neat and combed, was the color of dark cedar, which shone when the light was upon it. Her skin was a golden tan, and her lips were full and a soft pink in color. She looked so peaceful, lying there, almost angelic.

Holmes sighed. _If only…_ he thought.

"Holmes." Watson's voice drew the detective out of his daze.

"mmm?" he replied, never taking his eyes from the sleeping beauty before him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are already quite smitten with her."

Holmes could feel the blush travel down his cheeks, making them scarlet.

"Oh, well I…um …have absolutely NO idea what you're talking about Watson. None whatsoever."

And with that he passed Watson and hurried down the stairs, cheeks still crimson.

Watson chucked to himself. "Right Holmes, and I'm the queen of England…"

* * *

The girl was running.

She was running away from something she couldn't see, yet she felt its presence. She kept running, faster and faster, until she came to a tall, white house. The number on the lantern hanging above the door was 221B.

She threw open the door and ran inside, up the stairs, and into a dark room. At the end of the room was a desk, and behind it a chair, which was facing away from her. She walked, slowly up to the desk. The moment she reached it the chair whiled around, revealing the person who occupied it.

It was Lord Blackwood.

The girl tried to scream, but no sound came out. Blackwood only laughed, his lips curled back into a horrible grin.

He stood up, his hands on the desk. Then he came towards her slowly, like a cat closing in on a mouse.

The girl tried to run, but found that she couldn't, as if her feet were fixed to the floor.

Suddenly, Blackwood was behind her, his breath on her neck.

"Did you really think you could escape from me, my pretty?"

She felt his fingers running through her hair. Suddenly, his hand closed around her throat. Blackwood's evil laughter filled the air.

Gasping, the girl awoke. It had only been a dream.

She was in lying bed, sunlight streaming in through the window. And it was not Blackwood beside her but Holmes, who was smiling.

"Good Morning." He said.

The girl looked at him, wondering if he had been there long.

"How are you feeling?"

The girl inhaled deeply. "Better" she said in a soft voice.

"Good, very good." The detective walked over to open the window.

"I could have Mrs. Hudson bring you up some breakfast, if you'd like."

The girl shook her head. "No thank you, I'm fine."

Holmes came and sat on the end of the bed. "I'm so glad you're feeling better."

The girl produced a half smile. "Thank you, by the way, for saving me." Holmes smiled.

"The pleasure was all mine, my dear."

Holmes now noticed that her eyes were ivy green, and absolutely lovely.

"I didn't catch your name." Holmes said "you know mine, but I don't know yours."

"Oh." The girl said "It's…"

"Wait! Don't tell me…"

The detective leaned closer. He studied her for a few moments before he spoke again.

"Rosalie"

The girl was stunned. "How on earth did you know that!?"

"Simple." Said Holmes, straitening himself back up.

"You look like a Rose, but that's far too simple to be your full name. Your grandmother wanted you to be named Rosalind, because her name was Rosalind, but your mother wanted you to have her name, Emily.

They couldn't come to an agreement, so your father stepped in and, being the crafty man that he was, took the first part of you grandmother's name "rosa" and combined it with the last part of your mother's name, "ly" to make "Rosaly", changing the "y" to an "ie" to make it easier to pronounce."

Rosalie stared at him.

"You are absolutely right!"

Holmes smiled.

"I quite thought so"

"But _how_, how could you possibly know that?"

"It's written on your face, my dear. I see it because, what is hazy to others is, more often than not, crystal clear to me."

"That's quite a gift you've got there Mr. Holmes"

"Yes, I have quite an uncommon talent for these sort of things."

Rosalie laughed. As she did, Holmes noticed her eyes lit up.

"So, I'd like to ask you a few questions…if that's alright."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Do you know Blackwood's whereabouts? Where were you were being held?"

The girl shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Blackwood kept me under lock and key. He never let me outside. Even when I escaped I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, I just ran."

Holmes nodded. "Alright. So…how exactly did you come to be in Blackwood's…ah…"

"Possession?"

"Well, I was looking for a nicer word than that, but yes."

Rosalie swallowed hard.

"It was about a year ago that I came to be with Blackwood. I remember well the day he first captured me, and I had been counting the days ever since.

My father worked in the House of Lords as a cleaning man, back when Blackwood held a seat there. One winter, my mother became very ill. My father was good at his job, but hardly made enough money to put a roof over our heads and food on the table, let alone for the expensive medication my mother needed.

Lord Blackwood noticed his plight, and offered to help him. Blackwood gave him the money, working out a system where my father would pay back him a little each week. Now, my father a good man who loved his family, but even so he should have known not to trust Blackwood, that his pity was false, his kindness and generosity a facade.

When my father lost his job, he promised Blackwood that he would still pay him back, because we had some money saved up. But one night thieves broke in and stole what little money we had. When my father didn't give Blackwood his money, he came looking for him.

My father tried to tell him that we had been robbed, but Blackwood didn't listen. He killed my mother and father, and then I thought he was going to kill me too, but he didn't. Instead, he forced me to the ground and raped me. Then he took me away with him, and ever since he did, I've wished every day that he'd killed me instead.

He forced me to become his slave, taking advantage of me whenever he wanted, doing with me what ever he pleased, and beating me when I didn't do things quite to his linking. He beat me a lot for crying, which I did often. I tried escaping several times, but never got far…and was punished severely for my attempts.

I was confined to a room on the second floor, but often heard the sounds of Blackwood talking and moving about, other men with him. Some nights I even heard chanting coming from a couple rooms over. That frightened me almost as much as Blackwood himself…"

By now the girl was sobbing, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

Holmes looked at her, and was moved with great pity toward the poor girl. He went to embrace her but she backed away, shaking her head.

"No, no…I'm sorry…"

Holmes understood. After being hurt so much, she wouldn't want to be touched. Even in a comforting way. Holmes wanted to show her that she was safe with him, but didn't wish to frighten the poor girl; after all she had been through all that suffering. Even so, he knew that he had to help her.

"Please don't cry, my dear. I promise you, with all my heart, that I will _never_ let anything hurt you. I swear to you that from this day forward, I will protect you always, and guard you with my very life."


	7. A Dead End

**A/N:**

**Hey Everyone! So I'm **_**really**_** sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been really busy with visiting colleges, and studying for and taking my midterms so…yeah. But now I'm back, so Enjoy! --- Sincerely --- Rahls_Rose 3**

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Holmes fully meant what he had said to the girl. Even though he didn't know her well, he already cared for her.

He was thinking about this as he walked down the kitchen to get something to eat. He found Watson sitting at the table, reading the post. Watson looked at as Holmes came into the kitchen.

"You spoke with her?"

Holmes nodded.

"Indeed I did."

"Hm."

Said Watson, looking down at the paper in his hands.

"Yes, I hope that she'll be alright." The detective stated as he got up and started walking toward the pantry.

"And I hope you didn't make any promises you can't keep"

Holmes froze. He turned his head back to look at Watson.

"How much did you hear?"

Watson looked up at him. "Enough." He stated flatly.

"Holmes, you know she can't stay here. Think of what it would mean for you, for me. If Blackwood were to find out, it would mean the end for both of us. We have worked too long to let a single obstacle stand in our way. I'm sorry, Holmes, but it's just too dangerous."

Holmes could feel the anger boiling up inside him.

"Was that _all_ you heard, Watson, or did you happen to hear just what Blackwood did to her? He took her family and her home away, as well as her innocence. He _raped_ her, Watson. And after he forced her to become his own personal slave, he constantly continued the abuse her, both sexually and physically, for over a year. He destroyed her life. I cannot see how you can be so uncaring toward her."

Watson sighed. "Holmes, I understand that you care for her, but keeping her here is dangerous. I just don't see why you would risk your life for a girl you barely know."

The detective just looked straight into his friend's eyes. "I promised her Watson, I _swore _that I'd protect her. And I don't just want to, I _have_ to. After all, I'm basically all she's got in this world, the only person she has to help her."

There was a pause. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Watson spoke up.

"Very well Holmes, she may stay here for now, but I'm warning you. You've seen what Blackwood's capable of. Just be careful."

Holmes nodded vigorously. "Thank you my friend. And don't worry, I'm _always_ careful."

Watson couldn't contain a bust of laughter.

"_Always_ careful, are you? You're careful when you nearly blow up the house, or practice archery in your room, or when you experiment on my dog?"

Holmes rolled his eyes. "He's _our_ dog, Watson, and I have never done anything that has seriously hurt him."

"I think he would argue with that statement."

"Don't be absurd Watson! Dogs can't talk!"

"That's not the point! What I'm trying to say is…"

At the moment the door flew open and in ran a worried looking, very-out-of breath Constable Clark.

"Mr. Holmes…Dr. Watson…" the officer said between pants.

"Yes, Constable, what is it?" Watson inquired.

"It's Blackwood's man, Martin…he's dead!"

* * *

Holmes and Watson followed Constable Clark down a long hallway of the city prison. It was damp, and rats scurried along the floor. When the reached the cell that Blackwood's man had been contained in, Lestrade was already standing there, waiting for them

. He nodded at the men. "Doctor, Holmes."

The detective nodded back "Inspector."

Then they all tuned to look at the body, still lying in the cell.

"Strangled himself, most likely early this morning." Lestrade reported. "We thought you might want to take a look at the body."

Holmes nodded and stepped inside the cell.

He turned the corpse over gently and looked first at his wrists, then at his neck. After a few moments, Holmes straitened back up.

"This man didn't strangle himself. I he did, there would be bruises or at least marks around his throat from either his hands or whatever object he used. I do think, however, that he suffocated himself. Suffocating your self is a nearly silent matter, unlike strangling, which probably explains why the guards didn't hear anything."

Lestrade looked intently at the detective. "You're sure, Holmes?"

The detective just smiled. "When have you ever known me to be wrong?"

"Alright then, we'll let you know if anything else comes up."

Watson looked at the body, shaking his head. "He was our only lead to Blackwood."

Lestrade looked at the doctor.

"What about the girl Martin was after?"

Watson looked at Holmes.

"She doesn't recount much. And what she does recount is not sufficient enough for any leads." Holmes said.

Lestade just shook his head.

"Another dead end in the Blackwood case. And to think, I was going to interrogate him today…" Lestrade said, pointing at the dead man behind the bars. "I should have done it straight away…"

Holmes stepped out of the cell.

"Well, I'll let you gentlemen get back to your work then. Coming Watson?"

"I still want to talk to the girl, Holmes." Lestrade said.

Holmes looked at the inspector. "Why? What use has she to you?"

"It's just standard procedure, Holmes. That isn't a problem is it?"

Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but Watson spoke up first.

"It won't be a problem, Inspector."

"Very well. Thank you gentlemen." The inspector replied.

Watson nodded and then led Holmes back toward the entrance to the prison.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you Holmes? You should know better than to talk to Lestade that way." Watson hissed to his companion in a low voice.

"I just don't see why he has to interrogate her. She doesn't know anything."

"That's just the way Lestrade is. He likes to make sure everything is checked out. He just wants to see what she knows, even if it's not important. Honestly, I don't know what has gotten into you lately…"

Holmes just rolled his eyes and followed his friend down the corridor.

* * *

Upon returning to 221B Baker Street, the two found Mrs. Hudson in her usual chair in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes! I just wanted to tell you that Miss Rosalie is taking a bath. She should be out soon if you need her."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Perhaps later you can take her measurements and see about getting her proper dress?"

She nodded. "I will sir. For now I just gave her one of mine to wear. I also cleaned out the spare bedroom for her."

Holmes nodded. "Very good." He responded, and then went hurriedly up the stairs.

Holmes walked down the hallway and was about to enter his room when he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Curiously, he strode over to the bathroom door, and paused outside it, listening.

There was indeed a sound coming from inside the bathroom. Holmes leaned in and placed his ear against the door as to hear better.

Suddenly, the door opened and there stood Rosalie, humming, and wrapped in a towel.

She didn't see him at first, but when she did, she gasped and jumped, causing the towel to drop all the way to the floor.

Faster than it had dropped she picked it up, but it was too late. Her face went scarlet.

"Mr. Holmes! What are you doing!?"

Holmes could barely get the words out, his face turning scarlet as well

"Well I was just…ah…I was just…"

Then Holmes turned and bolted, down the hallway and stairs, finally coming to a stop in the kitchen, where he sat down.

Watson looked at him, puzzled.

"Holmes, are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Quite the contrary, Watson. What I was just witnessed was very, _very_ real."


	8. Apologies and necklaces

Holmes thought long and hard about what he was going to say to Rosalie before he finally got the courage to climb the stairs and knock on her door. When he finally did go upstairs, he stood outside her door, still uncertain whether to knock or not. Finally, he did. Almost immediately she responded.

"Who is it?"

Holmes froze. He hadn't anticipated that she would ask who it was. He was afraid to speak, knowing that she would hear his name and think "ugh. It's HIM" and not allow him to come in.

"Who is it?" Her voice asked again.

"It's me…ah, Holmes."

There was silence. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, her timid voice replied.

"Come in."

Holmes, quite relieved, opened the door. Rosalie was sitting on the bed, her arms crossed against her chest. She was wearing a green dress that Holmes knew had to be Mrs. Hudson's, proved by the lace around the collar and at the end of the sleeves. She was looking at him with a mixture of both fear and embarrassment, her cheeks still flushed.

"Can I sit down?" Holmes asked.

She nodded, so he pulled the chair that sat in the corner of the room. Holmes cleared his throat before speaking again.

"First off, I just wanted to let you know how truly sorry I am. I honestly don't know what I was thinking."

Holmes shot a look at her. Her expression had not changed.

"I didn't mean to frighten you; I was only curious because I had heard a noise coming from the bathroom and you know what they about curiosity, don't you?" The girl shook her head.

"It killed the cat."

Rosalie looked puzzled. "I'm not entirely sure what that has to do with anything Mr. Holmes, but I can tell you one thing, if something like that ever happens _again_, I won't be so apt to forgive you."

"So, what you're saying is you will accept my apology if I swear it won't happen again?"

Rosalie nodded. Holmes couldn't help but smile.

"I had quite hoped you'd forgive me, because I really wanted to give you something, and I don't thin you would accept it if you weren't on good terms with me."

"What is it?"

Holmes reached into his pocket and drew out a small, velvet covered box. He opened it to reveal a sparkling pendant. The stone itself shone bright, its color a deep blue. The stone was set in a silver base, which was attached to a matching chain. Rosalie gasped

"Oh, Mr. Holmes! It's beautiful!"

"It's yours."

"Oh, no…I can't take this…"

"Please, I insist. I would be good to see someone finally wear it." Rosalie hesitated.

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

Rosalie reached out, taking the box from him. She removed the necklace, holding it in her hand.

"May I?" Holmes inquired.

She nodded, handing it over to him. She turned around and lifted up her hair as he reached around, placing the necklace on her, and fastening it around her neck.

"Now then, it looks lovely on you." Holmes said, admiring both her beauty, and the pendant's.

"It is so very beautiful. Where ever did you acquire it?"

"A former client of mine actually gave it to me as part of her payment. She said it had some sort of magical ability, but I don't believe in that sort of thing. I just saw it as a pretty piece of jewelry."

"Magical ability?"

"Yes, she told me if I wore it, it would keep me safe or something like that."

"Well anyway, it's beautiful. Thank you, Mr. Holmes"

"You are most certainly welcome, but please, call me Sherlock, Miss Rosalie."

She smiled her first real smile in a long time."

"If I am to address you as Sherlock, then you must call me Rose."

Holmes laughed

"As you wish…Rose."

* * *

Lord Blackwood was pacing. His mind had not been at rest since Martin had gone after the girl, and that had been yesterday.

_If he has the audacity to come back without her, I'll kill him_, Blackwood thought.

_Then again, if he comes back this late with that ungrateful slut, I'll still kill him for making me wait_.

Suddenly one of his head men, a man by the name of Charles burst through the door.

"My Lord!"

"What is it?"

"It's Martin. He's dead, killed himself."

"_Killed_ himself?"

"Yes, he was arrested yesterday, but committed suicide before any information could be gotten out of him."

Blackwood had a quick moment of relief until he remembered.

"Where's the girl!?"

"We don't know. He obviously never found her. She could be anywhere by now."

Blackwood slammed his fist down on the desk.

"Dammit! Find her!"

"My Lord, searching the entire city would take days, even weeks! And that's assuming she's still in London…"

Lord Blackwood drew his dagger, looking as if he was going to kill the man on the spot. But then he lowered his weapon.

"You're right."

The man was dumbfounded.

"I am?"

"Yes," Blackwood said, flashing an evil grin.

"Why waste time searching for her that way, when I could just find her magically?"

"Magically?"

"Yes you fool! I'll use a summoning spell to find her. And I know exactly whose blood we're going to use for the ritual…"

* * *

Rosalie fidgeted with the pendant around her neck. _It's so beautiful_, she thought._ I wonder what that woman meant though when told Sherlock it would keep him safe…_

* * *

Minutes later, Blackwood and Charles were changed into their long, hooded robes. Blackwood stood over a table where his spell book lay open amid stubs of candles and a pate of animal entrails and white powder, which sat in the middle. Blackwood reached out and grabbed Charles shaking hand, holding it over the plate.

Blackwood recited the incantation from the book before him

"Sema bah carrah elow ah"

He took his knife and made a deep cut in Charles hand. The man whimpered.

"Mar kedoni lo ah!"

Blackwood held Charles hand over the entrails and powder so his blood dripped onto them

"Orah par cattoni lo ah! Osanna! Ossana!"

The objects on the pate began to hiss and fizz. Blackwood stood still as a stone, his eyes closed.

"Show her to me"

Blackwood held his arms out in front of him, waiting.

Suddenly the plate stopped hissing and fizzing. All was quiet.

Blackwood's eyes snapped open.

"Impossible!"

Charles, still clutching his cut hand looked up.

"What is it my Lord?"

"I cannot find her. The spell…it didn't work!"

"Should we try again my Lord?"

"No! It wouldn't do any good. I saw nothing."

"What happened?"

"I'm not certain. But I do fear that a great magic blocks my path. A very powerful enchantment indeed. It must be, for my spells have never failed me before."

"What should we do my Lord?"

Blackwood suddenly howled with rage.

"Get out of my sight! Now! Go!"

Charles couldn't get out the door fast enough.

Blackwood sat down, still seething with rage.

_What the bloody hell is going on here!?_ he thought.

_When I find that wretched bitch…I'm going to make her wish she was dead!_


	9. Interview

Hey Guys! I'm wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy sorry that I've taken sooooooooooo long to upload this. I've just been super busy (you can curse, projects, AP classes and College visits/decisions if you're looking for a scapegoat) But anyway…back now and with an exciting new chapter! (Hang on for the surprise ending!) I promise I'll put up more soon, I promise!

Love you all for your support, interest, praise and reviews!

----xoxoxoxoxox----

Rahls_Rose 3

* * *

_2 weeks later…_

This was the first time Rose had been outside since she had come to 221B Baker Street. It was a sunny day, which was uncommon in London, and the air was crisp and clean, even if it did smell of fish.

Rose looked over and saw Holmes, who was looking around very anxiously. It had taken a lot of persuading by Watson before Holmes even agreed to let her out of the house, and even then Holmes had made her wear a cloak with a hood so no one could see her face.

Holmes knew that Lestrade still wanted to question her about Blackwood, but was so reluctant to ask the inspector to come to 221B because he knew that Blackwood or hid men could be close by, watching. As it turned out, the inspector was very busy that day, and said that he needed Holmes and Rose to come down to the police station for the questioning. Holmes had pretended he wasn't upset about it, but Rose had overheard him and Watson arguing about it the previous night.

"Holmes, I'm sure if she just does her best to stay out of sight, she'll be fine."

"No, she won't be _fine_. Blackwood and his men could be anywhere, just waiting for her to emerge so they can kidnap her again!"

"You've got to stop being so paranoid!"

"I'm not paranoid; I'm just concerned for her safety!"

"Well then stop being so concerned! Now, I don't want to see her get hurt either, but if Lestrade can't come here then you need to go to him. I'll have a driver pick you up tomorrow morning."

"Oh very well. But then she's coming right back here. I'm not taking any risks I don't have to…"

As Rose crawled into bed that night she could not help but take notice of Holmes obvious care for her. He had shown it already, but the words he had spoken on her behalf were a wonderful reinforcement. _He's the first person to ever truly care about me, after my parents of course_, she thought.

"Rose? Our coach is here."

Rose was interrupted from her thoughts by Holmes statement. He took her hand and helped her into the coach. Once inside, Rose noticed he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Rose dear, would you mind pulling down your window shade?"

Rose nodded and did so. Holmes pulled his down as well. Soon they were off.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Holmes spoke up.

"Rose, I just wanted to tell you that you have nothing to be afraid of. I swear, Lestrade's bark is worse than his bite."

Rose nodded. She was still nervous however and Holmes must have noticed because he reached out and took her hand.

He looked at her with caring eyes and spoke in a soft voice.

"It's going to be alright, I promise. I'll be there with you the whole time. Everything is going to be just fine."

Rose swallowed hard before responding

"Alright"

Holmes smiled

"That's my girl." He said.

Rose couldn't help but smile too

Before too long, the coach stopped and Holmes lifted his window shade to look outside.

"We're here."

He took Rose's hand again and opened the door. Holmes got out and then helped Rose out.

"Could you return within a quarter of an hour?" Holmes asked the coachman.

The coachman nodded and then drove off, leaving Rose and Holmes standing on the steps of the London Police Station. Holmes looked up at the ominous building behind them.

"Well, there's no turning back now."

Rose gripped his hand tight as they walked slowly up the steps. One they got to the door, Holmes hesitated, but then pulled the door open.

Inside was nothing like Rose had ever seen. The room they entered was huge, with a shiny marble floor beneath them, and a high arched ceiling above them. Everywhere there we bobby and members of the Scotland Yard bustling about.

"Rose? This way…"

Holmes led Rose up to a large desk at the head of the room. I rather sleepy looking man sat behind it, who was tapping his fountain pen against the wood.

As Holmes and Rose approached the desk, he looked up.

"Can I help you?" he said in a rather wheezy voice

"Ah…yes. Inspector Lestrade should be expecting us."

"Name?"

"I'm Sherlock Homes and this is Rosalie Taylor"

"Hmm…" said the man scratching his head

"Nope, not on the list"

"But you barely looked at it!" Holmes cried

"Look Mr. Holmes, I'm just trying to do my job…and your preventing me from doing it. You're _not_ on the list!"

"They don't need to be!"

Holmes and Rose turned around to find Lestrade walking toward them.

"I asked for them personally"

Lestrade reached out to shake Holmes' hand.

"Good to see you Holmes. Ah, and this must be Rosalie…"

Lestrade bent down and kissed her hand

"What a pleasure it is to meet you at last."

Rose simply nodded, and then looked at Holmes.

"Shall we?" Lestrade gestured to a door along the back wall of the room

"Yes, of course." Holmes said.

Lestrade led the way, and as Holmes and Rose followed, Holmes took her hand in his.

"It's going to be all right. I'm here." Holmes whispered

Rose held on to his hand tightly

Once they were inside Lestrade's office, Holmes and Rose noticed there was only on chair in front of his desk.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, would you like me to call for another chair?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll stand."

Holmes helped Rose into her chair and then leaned against the wall behind them.

"So it has come to my attention," Lestrade said as he sat down, "that you were in Lord Blackwood's possession for some time Miss Taylor, is that correct?"

"Y-yes sir." Rose spoke in a timid voice.

"Hmm…and how did this come about?"

"Well he kidnapped me and…"

"So he brought you back to his headquarters?"

"I suppose…"

"Was he alone there?"

"No…there were often other men with him…"

"What did they look like? How many were there?"

"I'm not sure how many; he kept me locked up most of the time. But the few men I did see had long black cloaks on with the hood up. I saw only their figures, not their faces."

"Did you ever see any rituals or black magic being performed?"

"No…but some nights I heard chanting coming from…"

"Chanting? What were they saying?"

"I don't know, it was in a strange language…what I could hear of it, that it."

"Hmm. Did you notice or hear anything else strange?"

"Not really. Although one time I was in what must have been Blackwood's study, and I was this glass obelisk looking thing which seemed to glow…"

Lestrade leaned forward

"Why were you in Blackwood's so called study? I thought he kept you locked up…unless it was in there…"

"No, it was in another room that I was kept…"

"Then why were you in this study?"

Rose swallowed hard

"He took me in there…"

"What for?"

"For some…things…that he…felt he…needed to do…"

"What sort of things?"

"Well…" Rose said, on the verge of tears, "He…he…"

"Well come on then…spit it out!" Lestrade demanded in a determined voice

"Lestrade! Can't you see she's upset?" Holmes said defensively

"Well what did he do? Take advantage of her?"

At that moment, Rose burst out crying, sobs shaking her shoulders. She buried her face in her hands.

"Now you've done it!" Holmes said rushing over to Rose.

"Well how was I supposed to know!? It not like I can read minds! But I'm going to have to know more about this… when it happened, if I happened more than once…"

Rose began to sob harder, and Holmes put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.

"And why do you need to know that?"

"It could be a lead in the case! Remember those to girls he killed? Maybe he raped them before he killed them! Maybe it's a pattern! Maybe _she's_ next!

Rose began to wail, her agony, pain, and fear so present in her cries.

Holmes stood up

"That is _quite_ enough Lestrade! Rose my dear, we're leaving."

Lestrade stood up as well

"I'm not finished what I have to say…"

"I think you've said enough!"

Holmes helped the still sobbing Rose up, holding her in his arms.

"I know the information you require. I will discuss it with you at a later date, but not now! I do believe we are done here Inspector."

Holmes led Rose to the door, still trying to comfort her.

"HOLMES! You get back here!"

But the detective simply strolled out the door, just slamming it behind him.

Holmes walked at a quickened pace and didn't stop until they were outside and in the coach, which luckily was waiting for them.

Holmes still held Rose, even inside the carriage.

"Oh, my dear Rose, please tell me Tell me how I can help you. I want to be here for you…"

Rose just simply sobbed harder, putting her head on Holmes' shoulder.

Holmes stroked her hair gently

"I cannot imagine the pain and sorrow you are enduring. And although you may not want to talk right now, when you do, I am here to listen."

Rose nodded slowly, but then only sobbed quietly for the remainder of the ride back.

When they got back to 221B Baker Street, Holmes paid the driver, and then carried Rose straight up to her room, and laid her on her bed.

Still shaken but no longer crying, Rose sat up and took Holmes hand.

"Thank you…thank you for all you have done for me Sherlock."

Holmes smiled

"You are welcome my dear."

Rose gave him a little half smile

"Rose…" Holmes said sitting next to her on the bed, "can I tell you something?"

"You may tell me anything."

"Rose…you know that I care for you very much, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Well Rose…" Holmes looked deep into her eyes, No matter what the reason; I am so very glad you came into my life."

Rose seemed taken aback, lost for words, but finally she spoke.

"I…I feel quite the same way…"

Holmes and rose looked longingly at each other for a few moments, then they both leaned forward at the same time, and in an instant, their lips touched.

The kiss, their first, was brief but unforgettable.

When they broke away, the passion had broken for the moment, but was still present.

Holmes placed his hands on Rose's cheeks, caressing them as he did.

Then he found her lips again

This time the kiss deepened, and every thought in both of their minds just melted away. Neither wanted it to end, and both hoped it wouldn't. Nothing mattered now other then they were together, intertwined, and lost in their passion.


End file.
